


Middle of the night.

by misswritingobsessed



Category: FBI (TV 2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Nightmares, Partnership, Support, Survival, mention of PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misswritingobsessed/pseuds/misswritingobsessed
Summary: Kristen was simply surviving, working through the trauma, until she could start living again - Kristen calls Stuart after having a nightmare.
Relationships: Kristen Chazal & Stuart Scola
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	Middle of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I began mindlessly writing after I couldn't sleep - admittedly, I am so ready to see Kristen and Scola build up their partnership! I am slightly worried about this, because I do feel it has no real direction, but I hope it's not terrible. Any and all mistakes are mine.

It wasn’t the first nightmare since her attack, but it was the first one she’d had while she was alone. Before she’d been in her hospital bed - upon waking with a sharp intake of breath a nurse would come over, give her a reassuring smile and she’d fall back asleep. 

Even when she returned home, her mother would hear her, stroke her hair, tell her everything was going to be just fine until she again succumbed to sleep.

Tonight, she didn’t have that. Tonight, when she woke up, heart pounding, her brain scrambling to bring her back to the present, tell her that she wasn’t in danger, she was alone in the dark.

Trying to see outlines, while she slowed her breathing, she debated if she should turn on the light or just lay back down. How hard would it be to simply fall back asleep? She’d done it before, she knew she was at home, safe, and not bleeding out, she knew, really, she should lay her head back down and try to sleep some more.

Only it wasn’t that simple.

The alarm clock read 1:05, when she reached for the lamp switch, closing her eyes to the bright light when she clicked it on, her brain now more alert and thankfully more present.

Taking a calming breath, she tried to remember the techniques that she’d been told. The mention of PTSD made her mother more determined to teach her breathing techniques and meditation, but Kristen went along with it, she assumed it was her mother's way of coping with almost losing her youngest child.

She’d been living with headaches since it happened and had become used to the dull ache in her neck. The slight trembling of her body would soon fade, and eventually, all she’d have to deal with is the cold sweat she found herself covered in - she found it almost fascinating how much her body could do at one time, and how quickly it would become normal for her. 

Reaching for her phone she unplugged the charging cable, hoping that mindlessly scrolling through social media and the news would help - but she knew before she even unlocked the device that it could have the opposite effect. It didn’t stop her though, the last thing she wanted was to get out of bed - if she did that she’d be awake until after work, and with the job she did, field agent or analyst, it wasn’t a nine to five. 

Pulling up her messages after ten minutes of mindless scrolling, she ended up pressing on his name. Scola. Her partner. The messages they’d exchanged since they met on the screen in front of her. Coffee orders, times and places, how she was doing, random questions, training session information, the things she assumed most people texted about.

Until the last conversation they had. The last text he sent. Hours earlier they’d been speaking about her return to work, how she felt with her medical clearance being only weeks away - she was fine, nervous, excited, but fine was all she told him. In her head she pictured him shaking his head, knowing she was lying. 

His last text read ‘call me if you need anything.’ 

Well, she needed something. Someone to talk to, someone to listen to her, reassuring her. Maybe even lay with her so she didn’t feel so small and vulnerable. Someone to tell her she wasn’t weak, that this was normal - that this would end, eventually. 

‘Are you awake?’ Texting him was better than calling him. 

If he didn’t reply, Kristen could force herself back to sleep, or to stay awake, whichever was easiest.

‘Yeah, everything okay?’ 

‘I can’t sleep. Sounds silly, but I wondered if we could talk?’ 

‘Want me to come over?’ 

She closed her eyes momentarily. How easy it was to ask for his help, yet how scared she was to accept it. It was just a nightmare, just a split second that she felt as if she was falling. She should have been able to deal with it, drink some water, take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

Instead, she found herself needing someone within reaching distance, just to feel calm.

‘Kristen?’ She’d left him on ‘read’ for too long.

‘You don’t mind?’ 

She took a breath as the three dots in the corner of the screen bounced as he typed his reply. 

‘Not at all, I’ll be there in twenty. Do you need anything, food? Coffee? Medication?’ 

‘No, thank you, I have everything I need.’ 

She didn’t, not really. She needed for this to be a dream, for this to be over. For someone to be with her. That’s what she needed, not medication, although it helped. She was considering giving up coffee, until the next kidnapping and twenty-four-hour shift. Food - she had plenty of that, but no real appetite to eat any of it. 

She needed to stop being weak. 

Kristen took another deep breath, trying hard to keep the memories at bay, telling herself that she was alive and that no matter how much her neck hurt - she wasn’t bleeding out anymore. 

Pushing the covers back, she got out of bed, heading for her kitchen, switching on various lamps as she did, regretting it instantly when the lights showed her the state her apartment was in. 

She went to work, she came home, she tried to eat, tried to sleep, somehow cleaning didn’t fit into her schedule of crime analysis and nightmares. 

She cursed under her breath but knew texting Stuart and asking him not to come wouldn’t work, if anything, it would make him more concerned. Even if he did a better job at hiding his panic than Maggie, he was still panicked about her, worried about her - concerned for her wellbeing. 

“At least you’re alive.” It sounded sarcastic to her own ears, it’s all she heard for weeks and she knew it was true, she was lucky, but being lucky came at a cost.

Being lucky meant she couldn’t sleep. Meant she had to call her partner in the dead of night just so someone was close to her. She dreaded to think what he would say, what he would think, how he would look at her. She was still Kristen, for the most part, she still wanted to be an agent and she knew she could, she was willing to train, work hard, be his partner again - but after this she wondered if he’d trust her - after she couldn’t cope with a simple nightmare on her own. 

The quiet knock on her door made her smile, at least she wouldn’t be on her own anymore. 

Stuart stood on the other side, sweatpants and a t-shirt, and a small but comforting smile.

Kristen let him in without a word. 

“I’m glad you text me.” 

She frowned a little, “Why?” 

He shrugged, “Means you trust me, or I would like to believe it means you trust me. And, I think right now you’re probably doubting yourself, telling yourself you should have just sat around in the darkness, but it's good you reached out when you needed someone.” 

Kristen stood still, “It was just a nightmare, I shouldn’t have needed to need someone.” 

Stuart shook his head, “Nightmares after events like what you went through, they can be tough. Just because someone else can fall back asleep doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Thank you for coming,” she hesitated, that was all she could think to say. “Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“Water would be great, thank you.” 

She smiled, before turning into her kitchen, getting him a glass of water, stuck between wanting to say nothing and wanting to tell him everything about the nightmares she was having. 

“We can talk about it if you like. Or, if you wanted me to stay here so you could get some sleep, I brought a change of clothes.” 

It was only then she noticed the bag he’d had over his shoulder. He really had come prepared. She wondered if he still had nightmares, about his brother, or close calls on the job, but even though she wondered, she didn’t want to ask, she didn’t feel it was her place. 

“I, um,” Kristen handed him the glass of water, both of them stood in her entry way “I feel really stupid and weak right now.” 

Stuart nodded, “You’re not, certainly not weak, but I get why you would feel like that. After my brother,” he paused, taking a breath, “after my brother, I would wake up, visions of what I thought would have happened, I called my dad every single time, and he would tell me it was okay, and random things about his day until I stopped talking because he knew I’d fallen asleep.” 

Kristen felt her lips turn up into a smile. “Can we sit down?” 

“Whatever you’d like to do.”

The pair sat on her living room couch, “I’m sorry for the mess, I haven’t really felt like cleaning. Just, work and then train, come home, eat, sleep. I should really make a start on some laundry and maybe vacuum, but it all seems,” she shook her head, looking for the right word. 

“Too big? Too tiring? If you need some help with this stuff, Kristen, all you have to do is ask.”

Kristen nodded, knowing deep down she wasn’t there yet. She was barely ready to open up, let alone ask anyone from the office to help her do simple household chores that she’d been doing since she turned ten. 

Silence hung in the air for a while, Kristen pulled her legs up, leggings and oversized long sleeved top keeping her warm, while Stuart finished his water, placing the glass on the coffee table and sitting patiently, glancing over every so often to make sure Kristen was okay, ready to give her the go ahead, the nod that she could start talking whenever she felt ready to. 

“I don’t actually go there, in these nightmares.” Kristen explained quickly, without warning. 

She folded her arms across her chest, trying to put her thoughts into words, into something that was understandable.

“My neck hurts and I am bleeding out, but I'm not in that warehouse. I don’t actually know where I am, I just, I feel so unsafe there and I reach a point just before I wake up where I feel like I am going to die there. Then, I wake up, my heart is pounding, and my head is spinning, my neck feels numb,” Kristen paused, taking a breath. “I feel like I am out of place.” 

“Out of place? Like, you can’t focus, or like an out of body experience?” Scola asked, without moving.

Kristen opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first. “If you don’t know or can’t explain it, that’s okay.”

Kristen closed her eyes for a moment. Loss of focus? Or did she feel like she was outside of her own skin? She didn’t have an answer right now, but a part of her didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to add to the list of things that she felt in the middle of the night. She already felt drained from her heart pounding and the numbness in her neck. 

“Do you ever feel like you need some kind of awful breakdown, to fix things?” She asked, this time with tears welling in her eyes. 

Stuart took a moment, this time shifting closer to her. “I think so, hitting rock bottom so you can build up again.” 

“I feel like I need that, but at the same time I don’t feel like I deserve that. I don’t feel like I deserve to sit here and complain because I am alive, and I am well. I have a scar, others who get stabbed, or shot, it changes their lives --” Kristen could feel herself getting more emotional, her throat tightening as she tried to talk without letting the tears fall, until Stuart cut her off. 

“Kristen, what happened to you, your trauma, nightmares, messy apartment, crappy diet, whatever it is - is valid. Yes, you have a scar, and others may have it worse, but just because they have it worse does not mean your trauma and how you deal with that isn’t valid. You have a scar, but to get that scar, we almost lost you, and that in itself is something you’ll always carry with you.” 

Kristen felt a few tears fall. “I just,” She shrugged, her voice breaking when she next spoke. “I thought I was going to die, Stuart, I was so certain in the back of that ambulance that it was the end.” 

Stuart nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears at Kristen’s confession. “And that is okay. It is okay to think that and to tell people that, and to get upset over that. Kris, you survived, you’re here right now and the nightmares, the, the, pushing yourself at work, your apartment, your tears, you are surviving and it’s not easy or a path lined with roses, and I won’t sit here and tell you it’s all going to be okay, because I think you know that you have a way to go yet,” he paused. 

He took a breath and reached for her hand, taking it and then squeezing it reassuringly. 

“You are not doing this on your own, Kristen. Which is why I am here, and it is why I will be here every night for the next three months if that means you’re going to feel safe enough to sleep. I will be here to do your laundry and empty the dishwasher and whatever else you need. I cannot stop your nightmares, but, if you want me, or Maggie, or OA, or Jubal, whoever, we’ll be here so you don’t have to deal with the aftermath alone.”

Kristen rolled her eyes skyward as she took in his words. “I keep having nightmares.” she said with a tight smile, hoping it would stop her crying. 

“I know, and it’s awful, but it will stop, one evening you’re going to go to bed, and you’re going to groan at your alarm the next morning, maybe three nights later you’ll wake up sweating and heart pounding, it’ll be a process, but it’s one that you are allowed to go through, it’s one that you need to go through.”

Kristen gave his hand a reassuring squeeze this time. He was right, she was comparing her trauma to someone else's. She was telling herself she couldn’t be scared to sleep, that she should get back to work, use her hair to cover her scar. She should get over it quicker because all she had was a scar, but the reality was, she could be scared. She could be scared and frustrated and let her laundry basket overflow, and cry, what she went through was hell for her, and even if it only resulted in a scar, she almost lost her life. 

“Do you feel better now?” 

“A little bit. I feel, maybe right now, I can do this - and, these last few days, since my mum left, I did wonder if I would be okay.” Kristen admitted quietly, voice scratchy from the tears. 

Stuart smiled, “Of course you can do this, Kristen. Just, don’t think you have to do this all at once. Good days and bad days, one step at a time, with so many people ready to catch you if you trip.” 

Kristen didn’t feel like talking after that moment. Suddenly she wanted quiet, a few moments to close her eyes. She was tired, emotionally, mentally, and physically. 

“Why don’t you go and lay in bed? I will stay, wherever you want me to.” Scola suggested quietly. 

Kristen, eyes closed, sucked in a breath. “Would you,” she paused, opening her eyes. “Would you sit in my room for a while?” It wasn’t lost on her how needy she sounded, how scared she sounded. 

Her earlier thoughts about trust came back. Would he trust her or want to work with her if she asked him to sit in her room while she fell asleep? Could she be an agent? Could she do this job if she needed someone to tuck her in after a simple nightmare?

“Hey,” she looked at him. “Wherever your head is, bring it back here. Whatever your mind is telling you, if you’re saying this is stupid, or wrong, or not something an FBI agent would do, stop.” 

Kristen did as he said, focusing on his words. “I’m supposed to have your back out there, and I’m asking you to sit in my room while I fall to sleep like a child.” 

Stuart shrugged. “Why not? Who says it's only children who need reassurance? Why can’t supporting your partner extend to helping with laundry or making sure they fall to sleep and they’re safe?” 

Kristen shook her head, “I am really thankful that you’re here, and I would totally give you a guest room if I had one.” 

“The couch will be just fine. So, when you’re ready, you can go back to bed and know that you’re not on your own - that, even when your heart's pounding and head is spinning, you are safe.” 

Kristen waited a few more moments, glancing back at her bedroom, before standing up. She was exhausted, she wanted to go back to bed, go back to sleep. Taking a deep breath, she began to move towards her room. 

“Do you think I have PTSD?” She wondered why she’d said it out loud when she was so close to getting back to her room, ready to sleep, hoping she wouldn’t wake up again until she heard her alarm.

“I don’t think that is for me to say, Kris, but if you do, then we deal with it,” Scola stood up, taking a step towards her as she moved quietly back to her bedroom. “You ready to get some rest?”

Kristen chuckled a little, “Yes.” 

Minutes later Kristen was laid in bed, Stuart had found a place to sit on the floor near the door, beside her dresser, in the dark they couldn’t see each other, but he was waiting for her breathing to even out before he went back into her living room. Before he quietly went through her kitchen cupboards to find detergent and put a load of laundry in to help her out. Maybe put the dishwasher on and tidy up her kitchen a little bit. 

“Thank you, for coming in the middle of the night.” Kristen said quietly. 

“Thank you for calling me in the middle of the night.” Stuart replied quietly - he knew himself that reaching out was a big step in recovery, both physical and mental recovery. 

“Night, Scola.” 

Scola chuckled at the use of his surname, “Night, Kristen.” 

It took a while for Kristen to fall back to sleep, long enough for Stuart to leave her bedroom, closing the door behind him. She let her mind wander, all of her thoughts over the course of the evening. Maybe she needed this, maybe she needed to open up, accept her nightmares for a while, knowing they’d come to an end. She was alive, but she almost wasn’t and if that wasn’t psychological trauma, then she didn’t know what was. 

As she closed her eyes again, she could hear movement in the kitchen, but knowing that her partner was out there, she found that she didn’t worry too much as to what he was doing. Instead, she let sleep take over, the few hours she’d get would mean she’d rely on coffee tomorrow at work, but at least she wasn’t on her own - nor was she stupid.

She was simply surviving, working through the trauma, until she could start living again, and she liked that a lot better than feeling stupid and weak. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it wasn't terrible, or massively out of character. I would love to know your thoughts on this!


End file.
